The title of my blog describes me to a tee, I recently got back into my love for reading and wanted to share my thoughts. I started enjoying a glass of wine to help me relax and find time for myself by reading a good book.

Until I met her.Layla saved me from my worst, but sacrificed her best to do
it. Now the tables have turned, and it's time for me to bring her back to the
land of the living.

But I might be too late.

Because sometimes our worst demons are those we never
expect. And sometimes getting rid of them isn’t a choice at all.

The odds have always been against us, but this time is
different. But how can I be her true north if I'm still finding my own
direction? I'll never know if I don't try. And one thing's for sure: I'll try
anything for her.

Nicole French is an East Coast/West Coast hybrid creature,
Springsteen fanatic, hopeless romantic, and complete and total bookworm. When
not writing or teaching about writing, she is hanging out with her family,
playing soccer with the rest of the thirty-plus crowd in Seattle, or going on
dates with her husband. In her spare time, she likes to go running with her dog,
Greta, or practice the piano, but never seems to do either one of these things
as much as she should.

When my world was turned upside down, he took me in his arms and
promised to help me find a new direction. Now I’ve lost my job, been separated
from my friends, and any day an eviction notice was bound to show up.

Before becoming a romance writer, Danielle was a body double
for Heidi Klum and a backup singer for Adele. Now, she spends her days trying
to play keep away from Theo James who won’t stop calling her or asking her
out.

And all of this happens before she wakes up and faces
reality where in fact she is a 50 something mom with grown kids, she's been
married longer than Theo’s been alive, and now get her kicks riding a Harley.

As far as her body, she can thank, Ben & Jerry’s for
that as well as gravity and vodka. But she says that she could never be Adele’s
backup since she never stops saying the F-word long enough to actually sing.

Danielle writes about kickass women with even better shoes
and the men that try to tame them (silly silly men).

Archer has always wanted what he can’t have—Quinn Dawson. Since the
moment he saw her, he’s been denying his feelings for her, ignoring the void in
his heart he knows only she can fill.

Everything about them was wrong, the kind of wrong that felt so right.
But none of it mattered. Not the terrible timing. And definitely not the mess
it would create if Archer made a move on his best friend’s baby sister.

It was supposed to be one night, but one night is all it takes to make
everything more complicated, and they only have nine short months to sort it
all out.

Those
little bitty shorts ride up her tight ass as she walks. I want to put my hands
on it. Press my cock up against it as I kiss her neck, gathering her hair into
one hand and move it over her shoulder.

I swallow
hard. I can’t think like that. Not here. Not now.

Not ever.

“Are you
done?” Quinn puts one hand on her hip and for a split second I think she knows
what I’m thinking.

“Yeah,” I
say, picking up my last piece of bacon. I pop it in my mouth and stand,
bringing my plate over to the sink. Quinn takes it from me and bends over to
let the dogs lick the remnants of eggs. Her ass is in the air right in front of
me, and I wonder if she’s doing it on purpose to get a rise out of me.

Because she
is, and I have to change my stance thanks to my hardening cock.

“Quinn,” I
start, not sure what to say, but I have to say something. “We should talk.”

“About
what?” She straightens up and rounds on me, crossing her arms. Her eyes meet
mine, drilling in with an intensity I’ve never seen from her. She has little
flecks of blue in her brilliant green irises that I haven’t noticed before.

I move
closer, stepping over Boots. If I say it now, there will be no more wondering.
No more waiting. She’ll either take me or leave me, but at least I’ll know. I
can kiss her now or move on. Somehow, someway.

It’s not
hard. All I have to do is open my mouth and let the words come out, speaking
with unwavering vehemence as I tell her how I feel.

Yet, I
can’t.

Standing
here looking at Quinn, with her messy hair, thick sweater hiding her perfect
tits, and dogs circling around her feet in hopes of more food, I feel more
nervous that I did the first time I stood in front of a patient on the
operating table with a scalpel in my hand.

“Archer?”

“Your
wrist. How’s your wrist?”

“My wrist?”
she questions, nostrils flaring. She lets out a sigh and picks up the plate the
dogs licked clean. “Same as yesterday. I ordered a posture brace on Amazon to
help with my shoulder pain, not that you care.”

I’d offer
to massage her shoulders, but the moment my hands land on her back, all bets
are off.

Suddenly,
Quinn advances. She’s inches away, arms crossed tightly over her chest and head
tipped up to mine.

“That’s not
what you wanted to talk about.” She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and
cocks her head. “Is it?”

“Quinn.”

“Don’t Quinn
me, Archer Jones. You know as well as I do you weren’t going to talk to my
about my wrist.” She lets out a frustrated breath and lets her arms fall to the
sides. Her fingers brush against me, and my skin feels electric just from that small
touch.

Goddammit.

“But fine.
I’ll play that game. Here.” She holds up her hand. “Examine me, doctor.”

Her words
are meant to mock, but they do the opposite. I’ll examine every inch of her
body. Twice. Three times. Just to be certain nothing was missed.

I take her
wrist and tug her forward, knocking her off balance so she falls against me,
both her hands flat on my chest. I slip my other hand around her waist,
stopping at the small of her back. Quinn’s lips part and she gasps.

Instead of
struggling to get away, she relaxes in my arms, and nothing has ever felt more
right.

Even though
this is wrong.

Quinn is in
my arms, back arched and tits against my chest. My cock is hard, pulsing
against the confines of my jeans. Thunder booms above and Quinn shivers.

“Do you
still want to talk?” My voice is gruffer than I intend, but the harshness does
something for Quinn. She slides her hands up my chest and around my shoulders.

“There are
other things I’d rather do,” she says, voice breathy. Fuck. She’s killing me. She
brushes her hips against mine, feeling my erection through my pants. “And I
think you would too.”

I do. I so
fucking do and she knows it.

“Archer,”
she says softly and hearing her whisper my name is almost enough to make me
come right then and there. I slowly bring my face down to hers. I’m going to
kiss her. After all this time, it’s finally fucking happening.

Author Bio

Emily Goodwin is the New York Times and USA Today
Bestselling author of over a dozen of romantic titles. Emily writes the kind of
books she likes to read, and is a sucker for a swoon-worthy bad boys and
happily ever afters.

She lives in the midwest with her husband and two daughters.
When she's not writing, you can find her riding her horses, hiking, reading, or
drinking wine with friends.

When I
asked Jordan Wells for a Boyfriend Experience game I didn’t expect to get stuck
with billionaire real-estate agent, Lawton Ayers. He doesn’t exactly fit the
job description.

WANTED

One
professional woman with business experience.

Must be
willing to build a future together.

Successful
entrepreneur a must. Bonus points if you’re a crazy local legend.

When Jordan
Wells offered up Oaklee Ryan a last-minute business partner to seal a deal I’ve
been working on for years, I didn’t expect beautiful, sexy, and multi-orgasmic
to be on her list of qualifications.

But that’s
what I got. And she’s perfect just the way she is.

Too bad she doesn’t want me to be HER boyfriend.
Because she bought me for someone else…

I'm new to the Jordan's Game series, so I wasn't sure what to expect from JA Huss with The Boyfriend Experience. I found it to be a fun read with lots of moments of craziness or that could be my feelings towards the heroine. This story has a hot connection between two characters from the start, the game they decide to play may be over sooner than they expected. The lies, betrayal, and drama that they find themselves in the middle of could destroy the makings of a beautiful relationship.

Billionaire Real-Estate agent Lawton Ayers needs to find himself a beautiful co-host/ business partner to pitch a new television series with. The connection must be felt by the viewers and the people they have to pitch the show to. Lawton didn't expect to feel the connection with the woman that was offered up to play the part. Now, that he's all in to play the boyfriend experience game, he finds himself wanting to protect this beautiful woman. Will he be able to handle all the drama and craziness that she comes with?

Oaklee Ryan seems to be everything a guy would love in a girlfriend. Oaklee has been unsuccessful connecting with the right guys that she has hired from the boyfriend experience game. That is until she meets Lawton, his take charge attitude and wanting to protect those he cares about makes him the perfect guy. Oak may finally be able to prove that she is not crazy and someone she knows is out to take her and her family business down.

This is a fun read, the sexiness that is Lawson had me weak in the knees and the twist and turns had my nerves all riled up. I'm really looking forward to catching up with the other stories and characters in this series, especially Jordan Wells.

The moment
I orgasm he thrusts his hips and fills me so deep I can’t breathe. The muscles
in my legs are spasming. My eyelids flutter closed—not sure if they want to
stay that way and drag the moment out behind a curtain of fireworks on black,
or open wide to see the whole thing in perfect clarity.

They lose
the battle and stay closed as pleasure courses through me in waves. My muscles
contracting against his cock. The low growl comes from deep within him as he
reaches his climax with me, and then the explosion as he comes inside me.

I laugh. I
can’t help it. I just smile, and laugh, and let the happiness and satisfaction
bubble out of me like some wild child who’s never been let out to play.

“Jesus,” he
says, his body relaxing.

I lean my
face up into his neck. Smelling the new leather of his jacket, the faint scent
of antiseptic from the tattoo, and aftershave leftover from this morning.

He grabs my
hair, pulls it—not too hard, but not too softly either—until my mouth is up
against his again.

He
continues to kiss me. His mouth more urgent. His lips more demanding. His will
imposed.

“No. We’re
going to take that pizza inside,” he says. “Then we’re going to fuck in a hot
shower so we can get warm. And then we’re going eat dinner naked in front of
your fireplace.”

I just
smile.

“Any
objections?”

“Can’t
think of any.”

“Good,
because that wasn’t really a question either.”

Author Bio

JA Huss is
the New York Times Bestselling author of 321 and has been on the USA Today
Bestseller's list 21 times in the past four years. She writes characters with
heart, plots with twists, and perfect endings.

Her books
have sold millions of copies all over the world, the audio version of her
semi-autobiographical book, Eighteen, was nominated for a Voice Arts Award and
an Audie Award in 2016 and 2017 respectively, her audiobook, Mr. Perfect, was
nominated for a Voice Arts Award in 2017, and her audiobook, Taking Turns, was
nominated for an Audie Award in 2018.

He was the worst teacher I ever had. I was the worst student he ever taught.

ROXIE RAMBLING

I can’t believe I’m standing on the steps of Bracken Middle School again.

Ten years ago, this place was my worst nightmare, no thanks to Jack “McSlutbag” Slater, the teacher who blocked my shot at a full basketball scholarship. But time heals many wounds, and I’m only a few months away from earning my undergrad in education, despite the hell Slater once put me through.

Now I’m the teacher. I’ll help kids rather than destroy them. If I can just get through this semester without too many fouls, I’ll be fine.

But it’s not fine. Because when I go to meet my new supervisor, McSlutbag’s sitting behind the desk, looking like a gorgeous, vengeful god ready to mete out punishment for slights—some real, most perceived—committed by the hellion I used to be.

Worse? The cold hatred I once felt for him has turned hot enough to set my drawers on fire.

Kendall Day is a former Teacher of the Year and current Creature of the Beer. Well, that last part isn’t exactly true. She actually prefers vodka over beer.

A juggler of multiple personalities, she also writes erotic romance and urban fantasy under an eerily similar moniker. The fact that the last names rhyme is intentional. The identical first names are a lucky stroke of serendipity.

On a Wednesday afternoon, I ask Trevor Bentley
to marry me. He might be the most arrogant, obnoxious man I know, but I need
him to be my husband for a year.

There are reasons.

He's not going to be a real husband. Just
part-time. Yes, I have to live with him. And, okay, I also have to share his
bed. And, sure, he's the sexiest and most exciting thing to ever happen to my
controlled, organized life.

But still... It's only a part-time marriage.
I'm not going to give him my heart. I know what I'm doing, and I'm too smart to
fall for my husband.

I’m feeling
warm and relaxed when I finally get out of the bathtub. I usually don’t walk
around the apartment unless I’m covered up, but since Trevor isn’t here I just
wrap a towel around me. My hair is piled up messily on my head, and I’m
carrying my bath salts and soap.

I open the
bathroom door and nearly run smack into Trevor.

I give a
little squeal and immediately look to make sure my towel is in place. “I didn’t
know you were home.”

“I could
smell you as soon as I walked in the door,” he adds, the slightly rough words
doing nothing for my flustered state of mind.

“You
smelled me?” I’m thinking all kinds of things at the moment, and none of them
are suitable to share with the man in front of me.

He reaches
over, and I swallow over a quick intake of breath. I think he’s going to touch
me. I want him to touch me.

He touches
my bath salts instead. “This stuff you put in your bath. I smelled it as soon
as I walked in, so I knew you were in the bath.”

“Oh.”

It’s
perfectly logical. And kind of a disappointment.

His hand
moves from the bath salts, and his fingertips slowly trail up my towel to the
bare skin at my collarbone. It’s barely a touch, but it makes my skin flush and
a pulsing begin between my legs.

“What did
you think?” he asks, his voice a little thicker than normal.

“What did I
think about what?” I have no idea what he’s talking about. My brain isn’t
exactly functioning at the moment.

“What did
you think I smelled?”

“I… I
didn’t know.”

“I see.”

It feels
like he sees.

It feels
like he sees all of me.

I’m staring
at his plum-colored tie because it’s safer than meeting his eyes right now. I
don’t want him to know how I’m feeling, how his touch, his presence is
affecting me.

“Melissa?”

“What?”

“Are you
planning to move out of the doorway? I need to use the bathroom.”

And that’s
like a load of bricks on my breathlessness. I’m able to meet his gaze now with
a cool expression as I step out of the doorway.

I’m on my
way out of the room when he says, “We can return to this particular
conversation a little later in bed if you want.”

Damn it.

The asshole
knows exactly what I was feeling just now.

Fortunately
I’m not feeling it anymore.

“I don’t
think so.”

“You sure?”

I turn my
head and see him smirking at me, as if he thinks he’s already won.

He hasn’t
won.

“Yes, I’m
sure. The problem is that any kind of conversation with you involves your
infuriating personality, and that just doesn’t work for me.”

“I think it
does.”

“You think
wrong. And I thought you had to go to the bathroom.”

“I do.
We’ll resume this conversation at a later date.”

Author Bio

Noelle
handwrote her first romance novel in a spiral-bound notebook when she was
twelve, and she hasn’t stopped writing since. She has lived in eight different
states and currently resides in Virginia, where she reads any book she can get
her hands on and offers tribute to a very spoiled cocker spaniel.

She loves
travel, art, history, and ice cream. After spending far too many years of her
life in graduate school, she has decided to reorient her priorities and focus
on writing contemporary romances.

Books and Wine

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